She grew restive occasionally, but on the whole she bore it well.

Her arrogance was not of the small-minded sort; and the best chance with her was to defy her.
At the gate leading on to the moor, Meadows resolutely came to a stop.
"Your letters are the merest excuse!" said Lady Dunstable.

"I don't believe you will write one of them! I notice you always put off unpleasant duties." "Give me credit at least for the intention." Smiling, he held the gate open for her, and she passed through, discomfited, to join Sir Luke on the other side.

Mr.Frome, the Under-Secretary, a young man of Jewish family and amazing talents, who had been listening with amusement to the conversation behind him, turned back to say to Meadows, at a safe distance--"Keep it up!--Keep it up! You avenge us all!" * * * * * Presently, as she and her two companions wound slowly up the moor, Sir Luke Malford, who had only arrived the night before, inquired gaily of his hostess: "So she wouldn't come ?--the little wife ?" "I gave her every chance.

She scorned us." "You mean--'she funked us.' Have you any idea, I wonder, how alarming you are ?" Lady Dunstable exclaimed impatiently: "People represent me as a kind of ogre.